12 Times Peter Has Homework
by RebelzHeart
Summary: Or rather, 12 times that Peter talked to an Avenger when he was supposed to be doing his homework.
1. Steve

Can Peter just say this one thing?

Talking to Captain America is the most _awkward_ thing _ever_.

Like, in the history of forever.

 _Since before the big bang, forever_.

He's dead, he swears. There's no other explanation for this _extremely_ awkward situation.

"I'm not taking up your time, am I?" Captain America asks hesitantly, and it's all Peter can do not to yell, _you're freaking_ shy _!?_

"No, I've only got a bit of homework." Peter shuffles slightly, pursing his lips together as he offers up a vague, sighing, "Sorry for stealing your shield."

"Not a problem," Captain America waves his hand, and as if this whole situation wasn't uncomfortable enough, all Peter can think of is that one video, _so you've got detention..._ "Most of the situation was my fault, anyways. Um, shouldn't you finish your homework?"

Peter lifted a shoulder, trying to meet Captain America's eyes but utterly failing and ending up sort of just standing there, looking around, his eyes rolling in his head like marbles on a slide. "I can spend some time with you." No matter how much this conversation makes him wish that he didn't talk like a drug dealer on a sugar high. "As for the whole who's fault thing, Mr. Stark says that everyone who was involved had part of the blame."

Captain America looks a bit surprised, and asks quietly, "Really?"

"No," Peter snorts, and then huffs in frustration, arms flying up in angry, sweeping gestures. "He was all like 'I could've done this or that...' but he knows that he's right, and he doesn't regret it, but he doesn't blame anyone else, so he's just sort of there, all idiotic and self deprecating."

Captain America, unsurprisingly, looks like he's not sure whether or not he wants to laugh at that or go and smack some sense into Mr. Stark.

(He lets out a tentative laugh, uncertain and soft, and then grumbles something under his breath about the latter, so Peter figures he's decided to do both.)

"Tony's getting better at it," Captain America offers, weak and not much of an excuse, but Peter knows that Captain America only half believes it himself, so he just kind of rolls with it. "He yells at me sometimes, and then we sit down and chat. It's nice."

"Getting yelled at is nice?" Peter asks dubiously, deciding to forget about any pretense of being subtle.

"His therapist says that it's good to get it all out." Captain America shrugs, still giving Peter that weird, tentative smile, so he returns a sort-of smile that doesn't quite turn into a real one, but he decides that's okay for now. "So we're letting him."

"Oh." Peter doesn't really know anything else to say, so he just sort of goes, "I, uh, better go finish my homework."

"Yeah, um," Oh man, now Captain America is bright red and kind of making vague motions with his hands. (He's so nervous, he's acting worse than Peter... okay, fine, maybe not that bad, but almost.) "That, that sounds good, sounds fantastic, really, good idea, homework should be finished as soon as possible."

"Yeah," Peter agrees, equally nervous and weird. He echoes the sentiment, making equally vague motions with his hands, and when he realizes what he's doing, he clamps them to his side, smiling nervously. "I'll see you around, around the city."

"Around the city." Captain America agrees, reaching out to shake Peter's hand, and Peter shakes it, resisting the urge to tap his fingers nervously against his leg. "Small city."

Peter offers him a crooked smile. "Pretty big city, actually." Captain America turns bright red at that, and Peter laughs, the sound sort of startled out of him, before he says, "Joking."

Captain America _smiles_ , a full blown, not-nervous smile, eyes lighting and cheeks dimpling.

And, well, Peter has homework, but maybe he can do it later.


	2. Tony

There's a huge, fancy car outside of his apartment and all that Peter can think is _I hope this doesn't take up my time, I've got homework._

After that thought, Peter can't really do anything but hope that their apartment isn't getting shut down (because there's no way that May can afford anything else, and he doesn't know if he can get a job).

Then there's an Avenger (the real, honest to goodness Iron Man, like _whoaaaa_!) in his living room and his mind is blank and _man_ is he awkward but can you blame him? Tony Stark is sitting two feet away, eating his Aunt's _walnut date loaf_!

It's absolutely insane, and he's not quite sure what to do.

Then Tony's pulling out his Spider-man suit and there goes acting dumb (not that he was much of an actor anyways, but points for trying, right?) so Peter tries to act like everything's cool (it's not, and he's pretty sure that his acting is still trash, but still, points for effort).

It's insane. Brilliant. (Iron Man. Tony Stark. Mind blown.)

Except...

"I've got homework." He has a future, he has _school_ , a life separate from this craziness, there's no way that he can throw that away, right?

And yet there he ends up, in Germany, and one thing leads to another and eventually there they are, Mr. Stark offering him a spot on the Avengers.

He almost considers the idea.

Staring at the walls around him, sketches of a costume built just for him on the walls, an incredible suit in front of him, and Mr. Stark personally asking _him_ to join the _Avengers_.

It's like a dream. Maybe it is a dream. (He doesn't pinch himself, just in case.)

He thinks of how for the past nine years, he's been dreaming of the Avengers, how when he's seven and Iron Man first appears, he dresses up as him for Halloween, Uncle Ben browsing the aisles with him as he pouts that he can't find a _real_ one that will make him fly.

He thinks about when he was ten and he and Ned become friends when they bump into each other and start fanboying over Captain America.

He thinks about when he was thirteen and does a science project on the alien tech, proudly talking about the brilliance and awe striking power of the heroes that could take down something so brilliantly created.

He thinks about only a few days... weeks, months, waiting for a phone call, wishing, hoping, thinking that he can rise above, can become an _Avenger_.

How this has been his dream for so long, and there's no way that he can throw it away, that'd just be insane, and he thinks _maybe..._ because this is a privilege, amazing, fantastic, and _yet_.

He thinks of the Vulture, desperately flying with the box of supplies in his hands, wanting a better life for his family.

He thinks of Liz, eyes rimmed with red as she says, _my mom says it's nice where we're moving, so..._

Thinks of the old lady with the churro and the robbers at the ATM.

Thinks of Tony, sighing, _it's a bit below our paygrade_.

Wonders if this is seriously okay.

(Knows that it's not.)

He almost considers saying yes.

But he knows that there's no way he could.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark." He says, smiling brightly. And later, when Mr. Stark asks why Peter turned him down, face red as he admits part of the reason why he so quickly proposed to Pepper, he answers, lightly, jokingly, "Well, I've got homework."


	3. Bucky

Peter's waiting for Mr. Stark to finish talking to Captain America (his life is _so cool_ ), so he plans to do his math homework while he waits when he notices the metal arm dude sitting on a couch in the living room, and instantly, all his math homework is forgotten.

"Whoa, you're the guy with the metal arm! You're, like, _so cool_!" It slips out before he notices, he _swears_ , as Peter's face begins to burn. "Wait, no, that came out wrong, I sound like a _five year old_." He whispers, horrified, and buries his face in his hands, because he's never going to be able to reveal his face to the world, never again, not after that _stupid comment_.

 _Come on Peter, at least_ try _to sound decent._

"How is it connected to your nerves?" He blurts out, and the raccoon dude is still staring at him, slack jawed and wide eyed and all Peter wants is for the floor to eat him. (And really, it's not all that demanding of a request, all things considered.) "Can you, like, _feel_ things with it? How do you compensate for the weight? I mean, uh," He shuffles from side to side, (man, he's at a whole new level if he can embarrass even _himself_ ), "Hi. I'm Spider-man. It's nice to meet you."

Slack-jawed-raccoon-dude stares at him a bit longer, before taking Peter's hand and responding faintly, "Bucky Barnes."

"Awesome." Peter beams, and then remembers that Bucky can't see him, so he quickly adds, "You can't see it right now, but I'm smiling."

Bucky offers him a small smile at that, light and kind of thoughtful. "You're the kid who wouldn't shut up while we were fighting." He says it kind of fondly, but there's a tinge of Tony's super dramatic what-the-frickle-frackle-were-you-thinking-kid-you-could-have- _died_ voice in there.

Peter pouts and crosses his arms over his chest as he huffs, "I'm not a kid, I'm a _man_."

Bucky raises an eyebrow, something a bit different from the man he met at the airport (and maybe the boy that Captain America still remembers) leaking into his voice as he answers, "Not with a voice like that, you're not."

And Peter really can't reply to that (how can you?) so he just stands there and feels kind of grumpy, and when he finally realizes what to do, he lifts up his mask to his nose and sticks his tongue out.

Bucky laughs, and sticks his tongue back out. "Sorry, kid, but your actions are condemning yourself."

"Are you a kid, then?" Peter raises an eyebrow, once again forgetting the mask over his face, trying not to smile but kind of (okay, fine, completely) doing it anyways. "You stuck your tongue out, too."

Bucky shrugs at that, looking like he's trying to seem frowny and scowly, but ending up smiling a smile that's almost too wide for his face anyways. "I've got seventy or so years to make up for. What's _your_ excuse?"

Peter tries to think of something mature to say, but he doesn't really know anybody who's mature (other than Ben, and he always managed to sound like the wise old man of the mountain) so he just sort of emulates MJ. "I'm choosing to protest against society's dictation that certain actions are considered only appropriate for specific age groups, and prevent ageism."

Bucky sort of raises an eyebrow at that, his features clearly screaming, _are you serious?_ and when he realizes that Peter's not, he laughs, loud and big and warm. "You're crazy, kid." He laughs, and Peter can't help but laugh, too.

"You are, too." He says, except he's smiling and laughing so it's not really an insult or anything like that, just an observation.

"Yeah," Bucky's smile turns into something a bit softer and warmer and Peter thinks that he doesn't look so jarring anymore, even with the crazy dark bags under his eyes and the super cool metal arm hanging off his shoulder. "We all are."

Peter doesn't quite claim to understand it, but he feels warm and happy and kind of safe and he re-dubs slack-jawed-raccoon-dude as Bucky, and thinks, this is a start.

(Even if he had remembered it at the start, he's long since forgotten about the airport fight by the time that Mr. Stark comes to forcibly pull them apart, Bucky whining to Steve childishly and Peter pretending that Mr. Stark is his father, dragging him away from the love of his life, the two of them swearing to meet under the moonlight as Clint cackles in the background and Bruce groans, _God_ _, there's more of them_.)

Bucky's not just the guy with the metal arm anymore.

(But he still has a metal arm.)

(And it's still super cool.)

(Just, like, for the record.)

(Wait, crap, no, he forgot to do his math homework.)

(Oops.)


	4. Wanda

**Reply to Lw117149:** Thanks!

* * *

Peter likes talking to Wanda.

Maybe it's the fact that they've both been the youngest Avengers, so they bond over that, but whatever the case, they get along smashingly.

"Do you know the formula for the volume of a sphere?" He asked, tapping the edge of his pencil against his lower lip.

She laughed, and pointed at his notes. "You must have it written down somewhere in that mess."

Peter groaned and tipped his head back. "But I don't want to _look_ for it!" He grumbled even as he shuffled through the mess that was his math folder. "Come on. Don't you have homework or something to do, too?"

The edges of her lips quirked up in amusement as she replied, "I've already graduated, and besides that, there wasn't much time for school in my childhood."

Peter felt a stab of guilt at the reminder and he groaned, "Right. Sorry, that was rude."

She laughed, light and amused. "It wasn't, not really. I could try to help you, but," She spread her arms out and shrugged, still smiling. "I don't think I'd be able to do much."

"Yeah, well, I mean no, um, I'm sure that you, that you could do something to help, I mean, even if you couldn't," Peter sighed, and made a vague motion with his hands, accidentally dropping some of his papers in the process.

Wanda kept smiling at him, and shrugged as she sat down, cross legged, on the armchair of the sofa. "Just because someone's strength does not lie in one subject, does not mean that they are not fine."

Peter's shoulders loosened up, and he smiled tentatively at her. "Right." He agreed, breathless and relieved and kind. "You're awesome, no matter what you know or don't know."

Wanda's eyes lit up with something childishly happy as she turned bright red and asked, "You think that I'm awesome?"

Peter snorted as he ducked down under the table, fingers scrabbling for the papers as his eyes flickered to Wanda. "Um, yeah, you're kind of a superhero."

"You're a superhero, too." Wanda pointed out, her eyebrows raised. "So you're saying that you're awesome, too, by default?"

Peter turned bright red as he gathered up the rest of the papers to his chest and he shook his head quickly. "No, I'm not, I mean, I didn't say that, I just mean that you'd be awesome even if you weren't a superhero because every aspect of you is, I mean," His head smashed up against the table and suddenly he couldn't quite remember what he was talking about.

"Well, that's very sweet of you to say," Wanda was saying, her voice soft and fond and kind, but Peter couldn't quite hear her properly anymore through the strange haze that was coming over him and suddenly it was hard to breath and she was down next to him demanding, " _Peter_ , are you okay?", him vaguely noting that she said _Peter_ with a bit of a strange accent and a roll on her tongue through the fog that was beginning to consume all else.

She pulled him up ( _wait, what, wasn't there a table over his head?)_ and he pulled the papers closer to his chest, breathing coming out fast and shallow and _it was so hard to breath was he dying this was scary_.

"JARVIS, call someone!" Wanda yelled, and reached out to pull Peter into a more comfortable position but it was a bit hard to do and as soon as she touched him his mind glazed over and he backpedaled _fast_ , the detached marvel that _he could move he was free he was fine_ rolling through his head. "Hey, Peter," And her voice was calm again, as smooth as water (but still shaking a bit, her smile a bit too wide to be anything but forced) as she crawled in front of him and held up her hands. "I just need you to breath for me, okay?"

Peter drew in a shaky, shallow breath. _I'm breathing._

She offered him another comforting, but wobbly smile. "Breath with me, okay? In, _out_ , in, out, yeah, that's good, nice and deep..."

And by the time that help had arrived, they were fine and laughing at the smoothie bar.

"So the man just goes, _'but it's_ pink!' and Pietro goes 'you have a problem with that' and then the man stutters 'no' and Pietro says 'good', then the next thing I know, the man is covered in pink glitter, and I was laughing _so hard_ ," Wanda snickered as she spread her arms out. "And he was screaming and Pietro just grins and goes, 'you didn't see that coming'?"

Peter laughed, full and wide and loud. "That sounds _so_ awesome! You know what we should do? We should make the tower pink sometime. We won't even draw attention to it or anything, just paint it pink overnight and leave it like that."

"That would be _fantastic_!" Wanda laughed, and Peter was laughing back, and just for then, it was alright.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, this chapter was _supposed_ to be about Wanda, but nooo, Peter just _had_ to go and have a panic attack. Yeesh.


	5. Natasha

Their meeting is supposed to go a little something like this: the Black Widow will introduce herself, Peter will gawk and make a fool of himself, and they'll eventually (maybe) get over it.

It actually goes something like this: "Hello, class, my name is Jacklyn Portman, and I am your substitute teacher for today. Now, your regular teacher said that you had an essay to work on, so today will be a quiet working period..."

And Peter just sort of gawks, because she may have a blonde wig and cat lady glasses on, but he can still recognize her and _holy cannoli that's_ the _Black Widow and he can't even fanboy properly because there are people around_.

She stays totally incognito and stuff for the rest of class, but as soon as it's finished and the students are trickling out, he walks up to her and she sort of smirks at him as she asks, "You couldn't have been any less obvious with the gawking?"

"You're..." And Peter knows that you can't say her name, because that would blow her secret identity, so he ends up breathing, awestruck, "You're so cool."

She kind of laughs at that, like he's a little kid and somehow Peter can't muster the ability to be offended because this is _Black Widow_ and if they're being honest, she probably still treats Mr. Stark like a little kid because she's just that awesome. "You're not so bad yourself." She notes, and Peter swears, he could die happy.

Then the fullness of the situation sort of comes crashing down and he stutters hesitantly, "Did I... did I do something wrong? Is that why you're here, to like, ground me or something? Because I swear I don't _remember_ doing anything wrong, and if you didn't really go over ground rules with me then it would be a bit hard to avoid breaking them and..."

"It's cool, kid." She raised a hand and took a sip of her coffee, two creams and no sugar. "You're not in trouble."

"Oh," Relief comes crashing down and he starts babbling because he's nervous and an idiot, "That's good, I mean, that's fantastic, I'm glad to know that but that doesn't quite explain why you're here I mean you could be here for something other than me but that seems a bit strange all things considering and maybe I'm just overthinking this and you really do work as a sub but I'm really curious and..."

" _Kid._ "

She sounds, remarkably, like Mr. Stark when she says that, all sighs and exasperation, with one hand raised and both eyes closed.

(He says as much, and she shoots him a funny look.)

"Yes?" Peter asks, pausing mid babble to turn bright red.

"I'm just here for a little check up," Natasha shrugged, like _no biggie_ , and finished off the rest of her coffee. "So don't worry about it, okay?"

He is totally worrying.

" _You're_ checking up on _me_?" And it should say something about his life that he feels totally comfortable, using such a disbelieving tone on _the Black Widow_.

(Okay, yeah, he'll _never_ get over the hero worship.)

She shrugged and put her cup off to the side before sliding open the desk and pulling out a granola bar. "Yeah. Fury's starting to notice you... like _really_ notice you, now... especially since you've taken down Toomes."

"Oh wow." Peter gaped, and Natasha grinned, raising a pale blond eyebrow as she asked.

"So, kid, are you going to close your mouth, or are you planning on catching flies all day?"

Peter tried to close it, but he was a bit too stunned to muster up the energy to. "My life is so cool." He managed to whisper, vaguely feeling like Ned.

"Yeah," Natasha bit the top off of her granola bar, and squinted at him. "Kid, if you've got all this free time and have finished your essay, do you mind refilling my coffee for me?"

Peter barely refrained from continuing to channel his inner Ned and full out whispering _It's an honor_ , instead opting for a bow and a grin as he mimicked Wesley and responded gravely, "As you wish."

She rolled her eyes and handed him the cup, and it was only when he was putting the cream into the cup that Peter realized he really _wasn't_ finished his essay, and it was still due tomorrow.

(He'd just have to cut patrol short.)

(But who cared?)

( _HOLY CANNOLI HE HAD JUST TALKED TO THE BLACK WIDOW._ )


	6. Thor

They bond over Pop Tarts and hot chocolate.

And, really, it kind of makes sense (but it kind of _really_ doesn't because Thor is a freaking god and Peter's just a smol spider thing).

It works out anyways, as Peter goes into his usual cafe to work on homework (because May's out with a friend and he won't go home just yet) and orders his usual when he finds Thor patiently waiting for a muffin.

Of all things he expected to talk with the god of thunder over, it was not the different flavors of muffins.

(It works out anyways, because he likes muffins, and Thor likes muffins, and seriously, who doesn't like muffins? And so they end up talking somehow and Peter's long since forgotten about his English essay still stuffed in his bag.)

"You know, Thor," Peter said over Starbucks one day, "You've caught on to Midgardian traditions really fast. It's seriously impressive how quickly you've adapted to our culture."

Thor lit up. "Really?" He asked excitedly. "I keep thinking that it's so strange and different, but I'm glad to hear that I'm beginning to do well in your culture."

"For sure," Peter agreed easily, the edges of his lips quirking up as he added, "Since America has so many immigrants anyways, you don't stand out too much. Except for, you know, being super buff and hot and the god of lightning and having been seen many times on the news. But that's, like, a given."

Thor pursed his lips together, eyebrows drawing together as he asked, "Hot as in... body temperature? Or is it another Midgardian slang word?"

"Oh, right!" Peter nodded, and poked Thor's hand. "Yeah, not really for body temperature, but hot just means good looking."

Thor beamed at Peter and quickly pulled out a notebook, scribbling down a few notes. "I see! I'll be sure to remember this for future conversations. Thank you for clarifying, Man of Spiders."

"Ah, about that..." Peter coughed awkwardly, not wanting to make Thor feel bad. "You kind of have to keep that whole superhero thing a secret."

Thor frowned, tilting his head to the side curiously. "How come?" He asked, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. "Do you not do good deeds?"

"Well, yeah, but..." Peter shifted awkwardly, raising a shoulder as he answered, "If people know about who I am, then they could hurt the people close to me, see? Like, on Asgard, you're all strong warriors and stuff. But on Midgard, you know it's not like that. So if someone bad, who can fight, knows who's under the mask, they could hurt the people that are close to the masked man, see?"

"Oh." Thor fell silent for a moment, staring thoughtfully at his hot chocolate. A marshmallow bobbed on top, refusing to melt. "It's good of you," He sighed, "To give up the glory for the sake of your loved ones. I can't imagine how awful that must be."

Peter smiled lightly. "It's not awful. Just... different, I guess. It's not a bad thing, Thor, it's just something that happens to be true."

"That's very optimistic."

"We're heroes, aren't we? We're supposed to be optimistic."

"That's true." Smiling brightly, Thor changed the subject. "So, have you tried the caramel latte? I have been told that Midgardian drink is held in high esteem..."

(He was _not_ going to get back to his homework.)


	7. Clint

They meet in the rafters.

Obviously, because that's completely normal.

"A bit cramped and dark to be doing your homework, isn't it?" Clint asked, raising an eyebrow as he popped open one of the air vents covers and peeked in at Peter.

"Better than dealing with the risk of them," Peter jerked his head down and sighed, "Destroying my papers."

Clint laughed at that, light and agreeable. "Fair enough," He admitted, "But is it comfortable?"

"Comfortable enough," Peter shrugged, mimicking Clint's raised eyebrow as he continued, "And besides, I figured that nobody would disturb me while I was in here."

Clint neatly popped into the air vents and grinned. "You figured wrong, kid."

"I know that _now_." Peter groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Yeesh, Clint, can't you take a hint?"

"Never. Leave, and deprive you of my company? That would be cruel."

"What would be cruel is if I didn't finish this essay on drugs and handed in a blank sheet of paper tomorrow." Peter answered in complete deadpan. "For some reason, I always bump into you guys while I'm supposed to be doing my homework, and I always have to stay up late to finish it."

"Hey, kid, I'll even help you with your essay. No problem-o. No distractions, at all."

Peter squinted at Clint's left hand. "You have a bedazzler." It sounded like he had tried to make it a question, but had ended up too tired to even try to figure it all out and put up any pretense.

"Well," Clint coughed awkwardly, shuffling as much as one could while a few (more than a few) feet off the ground. "Yes. But."

Peter levels him with a flat stare. " _Homework."_ He whines, low but high and sicking his Puppy Dog Eyes of Doom on Clint, and damn if they aren't efficient. "Come on, Clint, I'm already really low on my average."

"But _Peter_ ," Clint says, and he's not whining, because that's what _Peter_ does, not fully grown men obsessed with the color purple. (Well. Maybe. Just a little.)

"But _Clint,_ " Peter mimicks Clint's voice, crawling forward and out of the air vents. "Peace and quiet!" He grumbles, throwing his hands up into the air. "You guys are _destroying_ my average!"

"Superheroes don't need good grades," Clint says dismissively, and Peter would agree with him, he would, but...

"Easy to say when you're freeloading off of Mr. Stark and don't need an actual job." He grouched, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Clint spluttered, "Look, I'm not a _freeloader_ , I go on dangerous missions to..." He paused, and then sighed, "Alright, so I'm a _bit_ of a freeloader."

"A bit." Peter sounded duly unimpressed.

" _A bit_." Clint agreed, voice hardening and just _daring_ Peter to say otherwise.

Peter doesn't say anything, but he _smirks_ at Clint, as if that isn't _twice_ as bad as anything that he could say.

"Pe _ter_ ," Clint groans, and Peter finally cracks a smile, full and bright and laughing.

"Alright, alright," Peter pushed himself off of the wall and flipped, before webbing himself gently to the ground. "So, what do you say that we start by bedazzling all of Natasha's shirts?"

Clint offered Peter a shark like grin. "I like the way you think, kid." He smirked.

"So do I." Peter agreed.

He supposed homework wasn't _that_ important...

(Oh how he would regret that when he was still working on it at midnight.)


	8. Scott

"I'm coming to you with an offer that you can't refuse." Pausing, Scott groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Wait, no, that was lame. I'm sorry. So, um, the offer, right. Can you babysit for me? I'll pay you! And Cassie's awesome, you'll love her. Maybe you'll love her, I mean, maybe you don't like kids and..."

"Wait, dude!" Algebra long forgotten, Peter leaped up and grabbed both of Scott's shoulders. "Are you offering me a _job_?"

"Um, yeah?" Blinking owlishly, Scott took a few steps back. "I mean, I completely understand if you don't want to take me up on that offer, but it's just that Hope and I were hoping to go on a double date with Maggie but if you can't that's totally cool, I guess I can ask Hope if we can..."

"No! _Yes_! I mean, a _job_! With _money_!" Clapping his hands together in excitement, Peter offered Scott a wide, excited grin. "Thank you so much, Mr. Lang!"

"Uh, please," Scott smiled sheepishly at Peter. "Just call me Scott."

"Alright, Mr. Lang." Peter responded agreeably, without missing a beat. "Wait, you have a _kid_ and you chose to become a fugitive instead?"

Scott grimace at that, guilt and worry flickering over his features long enough for Peter to realize that he had never intended for it to go so far as it did. "I didn't know the full details." He admitted, gritting his teeth unhappily. "I didn't think too much about accepting it, about what it would entail. And I didn't really want to go in the first place. The others told me that I shouldn't let them hold me back from an opportunity like this and I thought, well, Captain America..."

He blew out a deep sigh, short and loud, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Pretty stupid, huh?" Scott asked.

"Nah," Peter pulled up his legs into a criss crossed position. "That was basically what I did with Mr. Stark, anyways."

Scott snickered at that, tipping his head back ever so slightly and closing his eyes. "So we're both idiots?"

Peter pretended to think about it. "Maybe you are," He replied teasingly. "But I've got a pretty high IQ."

Scott threw a pillow at him. "Aw, zip it, Spiderling."

"Wait, no, don't call me that! Did Mr. Stark tell you about that?"

"I think it suits you."

" _No,_ Mr. Lang, I'm _sorry_! Forgive me!"

"I don't know..."

"I'll babysit for _free_!"

"Aw, kid, you don't have to go so far. Look, whatever I am, I'm not a cheapskate."

"Says the guy who won't go anywhere without a coupon."

"That's just being smart with your money!"

"It's _called_ being a penny pinching old lady!"

"Better than being a broke little brat!"

"Yeah, well, at least I'm still young!"

"Are you implying that I'm old?"

They bantered back and forth a bit more before stopping for breath, and then, in one single instant, made eye contact.

Scott was the first to break, bursting into laughter, and Peter was quick to join him.

"So, your daughter." Peter gasped out when he finally managed to get the words out in between giggles. "What's she like?"

Scott held up a hand and laughed a bit more, before gasping for breath and he smiled fondly, his wide smile turning into something a bit softer and sweeter. "She's the most perfect thing ever." He sighed dreamily, and Peter tossed the pillow back at his face.

"Oh no, you're a _sap_." Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Scott stood up and gave Peter a solid whack with the pillow. "Zip it, kid, like you're not the same when you talk about that aunt of yours. But I kid you not, within one second of seeing her you'll be smiling, she's just so amazing and..."

Needless to say, listening for the better part of an hour to Scott just raving about Cassie, it was a while before Peter managed to get to his Algebra.

(Though, seeing that sappy, fond smile on Scott's lips, Peter couldn't find it in himself to regret it.)

(Then he met her and it was _true_ , she was the sweetest thing ever.)


	9. Bruce

Peter, Bruce understands, is a kid.

As if it weren't obvious, from the way that his voice is pitched so high, his movements are so quick and fluid yet jittery all the same, the way his head bobs when he listens to music and he still chews on his lips when he's thinking, as though that's not an immediate tell (he's too young, Bruce understands, to know that tells are _bad_ ), and the way that he still laughs as though he hasn't a care in the world.

He's so innocent that it's almost weird, how he talks a bit like Tony (not the slightest bit of fear of the Big Guy, not because he can handle him but just because he oh so blindly trusts Bruce) and yet is so obviously _not_ (none of Tony's jaded eyes and forced smiles).

Except, sometimes, Bruce kind of forgets that Peter's a kid.

Because this kid is an absolute genius and he adores science, and hey, _Bruce_ adores science, so they end up together often, quiet afternoons where Bruce decides to look through a microscope (just for fun, of course) and he tucks his pens in his shoes and puts messily scrawled in notebooks on the table and chemicals in the air, and the kid wanders in and fiddles a bit, too, dumping random things in each other and scribbling down things, running his hand through his hair as he chews on the end of that stub he calls a pencil.

Often, more times than not, Peter will watch him, curious and honest and not the least bit subtle, all stiff movements and awestruck eyes filled with wonder as Bruce explains what he's doing.

Sometimes, Peter asks questions, but most times he understands that Bruce would rather not talk, so he fills the air with his own chatter, mostly for himself but a lot of the time, when he knows that there's someone listening to him prattle, he'll talk to Bruce.

It's little things, how he likes cheese on his burritos but knows that dairy's bad for him, how he (very proudly) stopped a mugging, and comparing the different therapists for the rape victims that he saves (but is always sad that he can't do more for than maybe a therapist's name and a gift basket).

Bruce reassures him that he's doing okay, and Peter will offer him a bright, soft smile as he sighs, "I know," the little, _but it's not enough_ implied and making Bruce a bit angry, but he knows that Peter is a stupid, naive, pure and kind idiot who just wants to help and help until there's nothing more he can do, and still continue to anyways, so he just continues to say it in hopes that it will one day click that it's more than enough, what Peter's doing.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing your homework?" Bruce asked wryly as Peter expertly wove his way through the mess that Tony called their lab, and Peter's disgusted expression was more than suffice of an answer.

"It's chemistry," He replied with a wave of his hand, as though that were all the answer that Bruce needed.

(And he supposed that it was. Peter was a chemistry genius, and could probably pass that class with his eyes closed.)

"You should still be doing it." Bruce rolled his eyes.

Peter wrinkled his nose. "Later." He promised, before frowning at Bruce's sweater. "How did you get all the rhinestones out?"

"Magic." Bruce replied dryly, the unpleasant reminder still clear in his memory. "Why did you and Clint deem it necessary to make all my sweaters sparkly purple, again?"

His, and _everyone else's._

Peter smiled unrepentantly. "It's Clint's favorite color." He replied innocently, and Bruce groaned.

"Of course it is." He muttered sourly.

"I think that it rather suits you." Peter added, only narrowly dodging Bruce's lighthearted swipe. "Really brings out your eyes, you know."

"What, you don't think I'm pretty enough without them?" Bruce dipped into Tony's flavor of humor, and it pulled a laugh out of Peter.

"You're beautiful," Peter agreed, with as straight a face as he could muster (which wasn't very serious... _at all_ ).

Bruce laughed at him. "Do your chemistry homework."

"Fine." Peter smiled brightly at him. "You sound like a dad."

" _Take that back, you brat!_ "

Peter, Bruce knows, is a kid.

More than a kid, he's _a total brat and Bruce is going to pound him into the next week for daring to say that._


	10. Vision

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* * *

He's specifically, _intentionally_ barred himself into his room.

Shut himself in and locked the door because he _knows_ that if he doesn't (and a very slim chance, even if he does, especially knowing how fond Clint is of hanging in the air vents) he won't be able to finish his homework properly and on time, or at least it will involve an extra large coffee and a couple of Red Bulls.

(The fact that it was Uncle Ben's anniversary has absolutely nothing to do with this, he tells himself, even as he knows it's a lie.)

Vision, obviously, completely ignores all this and just fazes through the wall.

Just like that.

Of course.

Vision gives him a once over and sits down to Peter.

He stiffens his muscles, forcing himself not to flinch when Vision comes close to touching him, but judging from the apologetic look on Vision's face, he knows anyways.

"I can't claim to know what's wrong," Vision sighed, glancing over at Peter. "Nor do I need to. But I do know that something is wrong, and judging from how you seem, locking yourself in here just like this isn't helping."

"I'm just doing my homework." Peter replies, trying to sound indignant, but it's a weak protest and they both know that's not the truth.

Vision doesn't call him out on it, though, (he never does, in the beginning, not unless he thinks it's necessary) just stares at Peter with that intense, doubtful expression. "What homework?" He asks instead of pressing, leaning over ever so slightly to peer at the paper in Peter's hand. "Maybe I can help."

 _You can't._ Peter wants to say.

"Easy stuff. Quadratic equations." He says instead.

 _I can handle it,_ he thinks.

"Did that get downloaded into your brain, too?" He teases.

Vision smiles at him and answers, "I've got the entire internet in my brain."

Peter wrinkles his nose and shudders, horrified. "Ew."

"Ew." Vision agrees, laughing. When they're silent for a moment, he continues, "So I know how to tell when someone's lying." At Peter's silence, he bumps Peter's shoulder and tacks on, "But you're a terrible liar. I don't need the internet to know if you're telling the truth."

"I've kept Spider-man secret for this long, haven't I?" Peter huffs indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Vision raises an eyebrow. "Right. Anyways, I don't need to know. You just need to know that we're here."

"Where'd you get that from?" Peter raises an eyebrow. "A website for shrinks?"

Vision shrugs. "Maybe that just came from me." He answers, coaxing a smile out of Peter. "As a friend."

"Thanks, Vision." Peter sighed, offering him a pale smile. "But for now can we just... just focus on math?"

"Of course." Vision agreed warmly, tilting his head over. "Should I unlock the door?"

Peter shook his head. "Maybe later," He sighed, running his hands through his hair.

And Vision, absolutely faultless, smiled in response. "Okay." He agreed.

 _Okay._

(And maybe, Peter thinks to himself as he talks to Vision about Ben a few hours later, maybe it is okay.)


	11. Sam

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* * *

Peter perches on the kitchen counter while Sam works through some scrambled eggs for the team's breakfast.

"You work fast," Sam notes as he glances over at Peter's growing pile of finished homework.

He looks up and sighs, resigned to the fact that this conversation is going to delay his homework. "You're pretty fast, too." He agrees with a slight smile and combs his fingers through his hair as he tilts his head to the ever growing pile of found on the counter.

"That's because you guys are bottomless pits." Sam grumbles as he begins mixing some pancake batter. "Honestly, I just do not understand _why_."

"Enhanced metabolism allows us to have more energy..." Peter began to say, but he didn't get much further before a dirty dishcloth found it's way on top of his head. "Hey! Ew, man, that's _gross_!"

"You know what's gross? Listening to you _science_!" Sam threw his hands up into the air. "Here I am trying to complain, and you just have to go and give me a good, sensible explanation! _No,_ man! Let me vent!"

Peter laughed and leaned back, kicking a leg up in the air as he crossed one atop the other. "Alright, alright. Go ahead."

Sam paused, held up a finger, and then sighed in complete deadpan. "Nope. The moment's gone. You ruined it. It's all your fault. I'll never forgive you."

"Saaam!" Peter pulled the cloth off of his head and flicked it at Sam, who quickly pulled up an arm to defend himself and the food.

"Not my problem if you're going to need some extra shampoo, okay, kid? Anyways, I'm told that you're getting along wonderfully with Wanda."

"Ew, _no_." Peter wrinkled his nose and dropped the dishcloth onto the counter. "Anyways, I think that she's got a thing going on with Vision."

"Really?" Sam hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah, come to think of it, they are pretty close..."

"We are _not_ talking about the Avengers love life like some tabloid rag." Peter interrupted Sam firmly. "I am just _not_ going there, okay?"

"But _Peter_!" Sam gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest and mimicking his inner Tony. "I _must_ satiate my inner gossipy old lady!"

Peter laughed and pulled at a loose thread on his shirt. "I can start calling you Deborah if you'd like."

" _You wouldn't_."

"Hey, man, you were the one who brought it up."

" _No_." Sam brandished his spatula threateningly at Peter. " _Just no_."

Peter snickered.

" _Anyways_ ," Sam continued dramatically, raising an eyebrow at Peter. "That wasn't what I was trying to imply. Wanda told me you had a panic attack."

Peter's smile seemed a bit more strained and he groaned, tipping his head back. "Man, it's not cool to talk about that kind of stuff! I'm trying to forget it here!"

"Maybe forgetting's not what's best for you." Sam pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Peter's nose scrunched up as his eyebrows knit together. "It's fine. Seriously."

"Tony's thinking about getting us all a therapist."

" _Noooo_ , Sam, he doesn't know, does he?"

Sam shrugged. "Peter, if FRIDAY was there, chances are that Tony knows."

Peter groaned. "I don't have any problems. It's fine."

"That'd make one of us." Sam finished up with the eggs and put them onto a plate. "Look, Peter, there's nothing wrong with having a panic attack. God knows how many Tony has got."

Peter perked up. "Mr. Stark? No way."

"Yes way. But who cares about that? There's this one time where he turned everyone's hair pink, now _that_ is a story."

"No way! Tell me!"

(By the end of their discussion, Peter had enough blackmail on Tony to last a lifetime. Not that he'd use it.)

(Sam, on the other hand...)


	12. Rhodey

"Mr. Rhodes, can you help me with my science homework?"

Glancing up from his spot on the couch, Rhodey raised an eyebrow. "Kid, why would I help you with your homework?"

Peter made a face at him. "Because you're smart." _Duh_.

Tony was a bad influence on this kid. "Tony's smarter." Rhodey pointed out.

" _Dude._ You're a rocket scientist. Like, literally, a rocket scientist. Forgive me if I think that you're super smart."

The edges of Rhodey's lips quirked up into a smile. "You're forgiven." He agreed genially, and Pete rolled his eyes.

"So, homework. Now that I'm forgiven, will you help me?"

"Mm, I don't know." Rhodey answered teasingly as he leaned over to peer at Peter's homework. "Doesn't seem much of a challenge for a lowly... holy cannoli, kid, what is _that_?"

Peter chewed nervously on his lower lip. "Homework?" He answered hesitantly, raising his eyebrows.

"Kid, that's not homework." Rhodey frowned as he pointed at the diagram on Peter's sheet. "That's something else."

"No it's _not_!" Peter was not whining. He was _not_. (Okay. Fine. maybe. Just a little.) "Fine! If it's too easy for you I'll just go ask Bruce. He's my favorite anyways." At this point, Peter childishly stuck his tongue out as he began gathering his papers.

"No, kid, wait, I mean..." Rhodey sighed, and rubbed his temples wearily. "Kid, this looks like one of the diagrams for Tony's inventions. Why is something as complicated as this your _homework_?"

"Ooh!" Peter clapped his hands together, nodding in understanding. "No, this isn't like question and answer. It's my summative. We're supposed to get help from adults that we know and collaborate with others to create an invention. The point is supposed to teach us to be creative as well as realize that the more people helping you, the better you'll do."

"So let me get this straight... your _teacher_... as in, no copying other people's work teacher... is _telling_ you to work with others?"

"To replicate a workplace situation, yes." Peter bobbed his head into a nod. "I mean, who's going to just think of an invention and build it all by themselves?" At Rhodey's awkward silence, he added with a small sigh, "Other than Mr. Stark, I mean."

Rhodey laughed and murmured, "Tony's the exception to just about everything." He agreed proudly.

"He's the first non super powered superhero." Peter agreed dreamily. "Mr. Stark is _seriously_ cool."

Rhodey raised an eyebrow, amused. "Saying that to the guy who just offered to help you with your homework? I'm hurt, kid. Fatally wounded."

"You're awesome, too!" Peter quickly tacked on, waving his hands in front of his face. "You're _totally_ awesome, and you were like, _War Machine_ and you're also super smart as well as being a super hero and you're very nice and stuff and..."

"I get it, kid." Rhodey cut Peter off with a light smile. "So, homework?"

"Yeah." Peter offered Rhodey an awkward, but earnest smile. "Homework."

* * *

 **A/N:** Guess who's done? *hysterical laughter* And I've got even _more_ Spidey and Avengers stuff planned! Why? Because I'm insane. And weird. And stupid.


End file.
